Orchids
by Silvite's Cry
Summary: Orchids were never his favorite flower. Rated for implied events.


_**Disclaimer: The World Ends With You and Kingdom Hearts do not belong to me.**_

* * *

Orchids were never his favorite flower. Sure, he appreciated the sentiment, but considering the sender of the flowers… well, he wasn't all that impressed. In fact, he wasn't even surprised. The man screamed 'look at me, I'm a superficial gardener!'

"… Composer, there's a bouquet of orchids—"

"I know, Megumi. Clairvoyance is rather useful in this type of situation, I should think." The Composer quipped, his arms crossed as he surveyed his Conductor. Megumi Kitaniji sighed, promptly bringing in the large bouquet of pale flowers.

"He also set a request in for an audience with you, Sir. He's barely ascended to the rank of Officer, if you wish for me to do away with the request I can have it denied in the morning." The raven-haired man said methodically, as if he had done it many times before. Joshua looked up for a moment, as if in deep thought, before shaking his head.

"No… I think I'll meet with him. He seems like a young hopeful, who am I to deny a request such as this?" Joshua smirked, running a hand through silver hair. Kitaniji sighed, strolling out of the room after a short bow of farewell. Upon being left alone, Joshua's eyes fell on the orchids, a playful smirk on his face and his violet hues narrowed.

"Oh, how you flatter me. But I don't need flowers to be flattered." He said, knocking the vase over with a careless wave of his hand, letting stems and petals yield to the floor of the Room of Reckoning amidst broken glass and spilled water.

---

Marluxia smiled, flicking back wild pink hair away from his face as he heard Kitaniji talk; the man talked too much about the same old things, in his opinion. Still, he didn't want to speak up, especially if he was to usurp the proverbial throne of Composer by not-so traditional means.

"… Zetta fruity." Minamimoto mumbled under his breath, cursing the alphabetical seating system and shifting uncomfortably in his seat. The man- Marluxia Lumaria, or something else equally miscible in the mathematician's eyes- was a new addition to the Officer rank of Reaper, along with some slate-haired boy who looked like he and the Sakuraba radian would get by far too well and a woman that was like a blonde short Yashiro.

He didn't like any of them, but that's beside the point. This guy, he seemed to _sparkle_. And not sparkle like, when the beams of light refracted off his face at just the right angles to make his epidermis glow slightly—no, no, the guy _literally_ sparkled. Guys who sparkled weren't usually the best people to work with—he knew that from the way his Composer carried himself.

"… And of course, the Player Erasure rate has dropped considerably; we must make up for this lack of numbers, as Soul Refinery isn't exactly an easy process with a small amount of Imagination…"

"So pointless," Marluxia thought aloud to himself under his breath, fiddling with the table in front of him. At the slight whisper (Kitaniji hadn't heard exactly what he said, so the Conductor was ready to let it slide), the Conductor remembered the request for the meeting.

"Ah, Lumaria. The Composer has requested your presence." He said evenly, adjusting the shades on the bridge of his nose. Marluxia smiled, getting up and pushing in his chair.

"Then I suppose I'll see you all later." The pink-haired man said, flouncing off. Both Sho and Uzuki frowned, thinking identical thoughts.

_That ass looks far too girly for him to be a straight-out male._

_---_

"I've got some bad news for you, Marluxia Lumaria." The Composer said evenly, his ethereal form sitting behind his desk in one of those too-comfortable chairs.

"Oh, Composer. You know the saying… no news is good news." Marluxia said, pink eyebrow raised and arms crossed as the door shut behind him. Joshua sighed.

"Please, I'll have no false analogies in my office. They make me so angry, you know. But either way…" He laid out a folder in front of him. "You're not acting up to your full potential. You were Erasing a substantial amount of Players as a Reaper, yet now… well, your performance is less than satisfactory. But enough of that drivel, you're the one that wanted to see me." Joshua said, getting up and leaning forward on his desk. Marluxia turned his head towards Joshua nonchalantly, getting up; the two were of exact equal height.

"Composer, sir, you know how I respond to authority…"

"Actually, no, I don't. You're hard to read, Lumaria." Joshua said in even tones, the patience in his voice far too evident for Marluxia's liking.

"Hard to read? I find that insulting. You're the almighty Composer, you should know how to read people better than anyone."

"Ah, but I'm not fluent in flower, as you seem to be. Orchids? Really?" Joshua mused. "If you think that you can win me over with flowers, Lumaria, you're sorely mistaken. I don't want that manner of memorabilia in my office again."

Marluxia simply smiled, unable to meet Joshua's eyes without laughing. "Ah, but I've got some bad news for you, Composer."

"Pray tell."

Marluxia met violet hues, smiling, licking his lips. "You and I are both fluent in doublespeak. The things that we both don't say, the unspoken words? They'll pile up. They'll increase until, quite frankly, the tension between us will be unbearable. You'll deny and reject, all for naught." Laughter tinged the man's voice. "Just you wait. Those flowers, my dear Composer? They're only the beginning."

Weeks passed, and before Joshua knew it, he was in the same exact spot as the orchids were months prior: on the floor, with nothing but skin and wordless cries.

And of course, who else is the cause of it but Marluxia Lumaria?

But even there, on the floor, rough, unyielding, Joshua had to smile. Marluxia may have thought that he won, sure, but… well, he still had a game that he was going to win. The cards he was dealt, he could bend them according to how he wanted, just like he may or may not have bent Marluxia to play by the rules of his own little game. Like the pink-haired Reaper had said, both he and the Composer were fluent in doublespeak.

And maybe, just maybe, those orchids that were on the floor previously was the only absolute truth that remained between them.


End file.
